


a rush at the beginning

by pathstotread



Category: A Wrinkle in Time (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathstotread/pseuds/pathstotread
Summary: "Kate just doesn’t know what to make of Alex Murry, and there’s nothing that infuriates her more than something she can’t quantify or understand."The university prequel that no one asked for.





	a rush at the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's totally normal to write fic based on one "she was his tutor in college" line, am I right?
> 
> Thank you to Anj and Jo for cheerleading an early version of this. However, all mistakes are entirely my own. I don't know science-y things. Or Latin. Forgive me.
> 
> Title from "The Louvre" by Lorde.

When Kate’s adviser asks if she has room in her tutoring schedule for “a promising physicist with...less inclination towards his biology prereq,” she nods and doesn’t think much of it. She’s heard his name at the mixers - Alex Murry, theoretical physics, big ideas and very willing to talk about them at length. According to Dr. Gardner, he just needs some hand holding to get him through midterms so her colleagues in the physics department can stop nagging her about failing their star pupil.

To Kate, he sounds like a nerdier version of every football player riding a 1.7 GPA all the way through high school, but she keeps this thought to herself.

He doesn’t look like a football player. He shakes her hand firmly when they meet for their first session, says “pleasure to meet you,” holds her chair out for her when they sit down at a table in the graduate student reading room on the fourth floor of the library. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly when she shoots him a glance at that because, what, are they in the 19th century? “Force of habit.”

_Definitely not a sports guy_ , she thinks as she looks over his quizzes from the semester so far. Still, he has that effortless charisma that would have placed him in the shining elite anway. Drama kid, probably, the guy who everybody liked enough that it didn’t matter that he was a total science nerd with a full ride to Cal Berkeley. She’d been a science nerd, too, but too awkward and gangly to make up for it in the social hierarchy. Their paths never would have crossed outside of lab.

Over their next few sessions, she watches him charm absolutely everyone in their path, from the girl at the circulation desk to the janitor who comes in late at night to clean off the white boards and straighten the cubbies. Kate considers herself a polite member of society, but one of the reasons she became a scientist was that it didn’t require her to be charming, or witty, or persuasive. She tests her hypotheses and lets her work speak for itself. Science makes sense.

Alex Murry, however, does not.

“Where are you from?” he asks her abruptly one night as they’re going over his latest lab assignment, which, if she’s honest, is less than inspired.

“Fresno,” she replies, surprised at herself. She usually doesn’t reveal much about herself to her tutoring clients. “Why?”

Alex shrugs. “We’ve been meeting for a few weeks, it felt rude that I haven’t asked you anything about yourself.”

She’s had her share of students, usually undergrads, try out some variation of “hey, baby, what’s your number?” She usually gives them a blank stare back and blithely launches into her lecture about the mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell, watching them lose interest as they realize she’s all business, and boring science business at that.

But Alex isn’t hitting on her. She thinks he just… _notices_ things about people, and remembers them. He had made an offhand comment the week before congratulating her on winning her department’s graduate student instructor award, which had been announced on the website but was hardly breaking news. She doesn’t feel like she can lump him in with her uncouth undergrads.

_Be polite, Kate_. “And you? Where are you from, I mean?”

“Oh. Here,” he says, seeming surprised by having the question turned back on him. “Bay Area, I mean.”

Kate nods, turning back to his lab report. They work in silence for a few minutes more. For no reason she can possibly name, Kate offers, “We lived in London when I was little.”

Alex nods with a silent _ah_. “That explains the accent.”

“I don’t have an accent,” she argues. She’d lost her accent in elementary school, much to the chagrin of her mum.

“Sometimes you do, just a little. When it’s late, mostly. Last week at the snack bar, you ordered an _Earl Grey_.” He says the last in an exaggerated British accent.

Drama kid, she confirms to herself, not examining why she suddenly feels warm at being the center of this targeted attention. “Well. We can’t all be native Californians,” she says, _Californians_ coming out like _surfer bro_ or _Berkeley hippie_.

He smiles, just a bit. “Touché.”

At their next session, there’s an Earl Grey and a separate cup with milk waiting for her in her usual spot.

“Thanks,” Kate says, surprised.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Alex cautions, sliding over his latest quiz.

\--

He’s handsome, she supposes. Not that she thinks about it much. But he is, with his bright blue eyes and sandy blond hair that sticks up in about four different directions, depending on the day and how much he’s been running his hands through it. He’s a hopeless dresser, and she can tell how well his week is going by how scraggly his beard gets. He tugs at it absentmindedly while listening to her talk about molecular biology.

If she thinks about that beard in her off hours, well, that’s between her and her bedroom walls.

She doesn’t have a crush on him, because that would be ridiculous. She just...wonders about him, that’s all. She doesn’t get how he could be so dedicated to his work, so objectively brilliant - and he is, she looked him up and read a bunch of articles about quantum physics that she didn’t understand - and yet, be scraping by in a relatively basic biology class, making only marginal progress in the weeks they work together.

Kate just doesn’t know what to make of Alex Murry, and there’s nothing that infuriates her more than something she can’t quantify or understand.

\--

Kate’s struggling with her Latin essay while he works on the latest problem set she’s given him, idly flipping his pen between his fingers as he thinks. Studiously avoiding thinking about his hands, she flips through her textbook looking for the correct conjunction of the verb she wants. She silently curses her program’s language requirement. Unlike some people she could mention, she’s always worked hard to excel at her classes, no matter the subject, but foreign languages have been the bane of her existence since high school.

“Audiverant,” Alex says without looking up from his notes.

“What?”

“Audiverant. That’s the pluperfect.”

Kate slams her textbook shut, suddenly furious for reasons she can’t explain, except that it’s been a long-ass week and he speaks _Latin_ now, on top of everything else, and what the _fuck_. “Okay, what is your deal?”

“My deal?” he asks, raising his eyes to meet hers.

“Yes. You speak Latin, apparently-”

“No one really _speaks_ Latin.”

“I know that,” she snaps. “You _know_ Latin, then. And you’re this hotshot physicist, you can probably recite theoretical equations in your sleep. You have all this potential and you’re sitting on a C-plus in bio because, what, it’s fun?”

He shrugs, which infuriates her even more. “It was a D-plus. At least now I’m passing.”

“That is such a cop-out. _Passing_ ,” she spits out as she scrapes back her chair and stands up.

“Kate,” he says, those blue eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“You don’t need a tutor, you need a kick in the ass,” she says, turning on her heel and stalking toward the restroom.

She’s in there for all of thirty seconds before her mad deflates and she is suddenly mortified. She puffs her cheeks out and stares at herself reproachfully in the mirror. “Get a grip,” she says sternly, not sure if she’s speaking to herself as a tutor who behaved unprofessionally with a client, or a stupid girl who’s just accepted that she has a completely ridiculous crush on said client. Because of _course_ she does.

She gives it five minutes, splashes some water on her face and returns to the table, an apology on her lips that dies when she finds his side completely empty. His problem set is stacked neatly on top of her textbook; it only takes one flip through to register that it’s filled out completely and correctly.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Kate mutters.

\--

Kate spends the weekend rattling around her apartment, ostensibly trying to make headway on her dissertation, which turns into a lot of staring out her window at the rainy February gloom. She looks up Alex’s number in the student directory, dialing all but the final digit before hanging up and yelling “uggggggh” at the ceiling.

On Monday, she waits outside the physics building with two Peet’s cups in her hands and a pit in her stomach. At ten on the dot, she watches a small group of students exit the front door, Alex among them. He’s talking to a short, bespectacled guy, using his hands expressively to make the point she’s too far away to hear.

She looks him over and almost turns on her heel and walks away when she sees the stupid, slouchy beanie he has pulled over his head and the wrinkled flannel that was almost certainly pulled out of a laundry basket in the dark. _Really, Kate? This guy?_ Before she can abandon him, his sartorial choices, and his stupid beard, he looks up and spots her.

“I’ll see you in lab,” she hears Alex say to his friend as they approach. He veers toward her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hi,” he says cautiously.

Every possible greeting flies out of her head and Kate thrusts one of the cups forward. “Americano, right?”

His eyes warm slightly. “Yeah. Thanks.” Their fingers brush as he takes the cup, and she bites the inside of her cheek.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Kate finally blurts out after the silence stretches a breath too long. “For last week. I was stressed about something else” - _Liar_ , her conscience chides - “and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” Alex says, shrugging it off.

She shakes her head. “No, it was completely unprofessional and unfair.”

“Hey. Kate.” Alex puts his hand out touch her shoulder. He means it to be reassuring, she knows, which is why the flush that creeps up her neck is _completely_ uncalled for. “You brought me caffeine, we’ll call that apology accepted.”

Kate blows out a breath. “You sure?”

Alex smiles. “I’m sure.”

“Good. Okay. Great.” _Please shut up_ , her inner, more rational voice pleads. “Well, I better…” she jerks her head in the direction of the library. “Research, you know.”

“I’ll walk you,” he says. They both start walking toward the library, sipping their coffees in silence.

“Besides,” Alex says wryly after a few moments. “I’ve found that most of the times I get yelled at, I’ve done something to deserve it.”

Kate glances over at him. “And what is that, in this instance?”

“I have a hard time putting effort into something that doesn’t interest me. Always have. There’s so much I actually want to do that spending time on anything else feels like a waste.” He spreads his hands in a _what can you do_ gesture. “Hence my checkered academic past in all things bio.”

“Well, I don’t love hearing my field of study described as a ‘waste,’” Kate says sardonically. “But...I get it, I guess.”

“No, you don’t,” Alex says, his tone amused but kind. “You bring your A-game to everything you do, no matter how tedious. Such as tutoring uninspired slackers like myself.”

Kate chuckles, but doesn’t respond. 

When they reach the library, Alex holds the door open for her and follows her to the elevators, pressing the button for their usual spot.

Kate watches his face discreetly as the numbers climb. “You know, you say you’re uninspired, but you’ve shown up every week, and you _are_ making progress. Maybe your work ethic is improving.”

“Maybe.” He appears to be on the verge of saying something, but stops himself.

“What is it?” she asks.

Alex turns to meet her gaze as the elevator doors slide open, his eyes impossibly blue and oddly serious. “Maybe...I’ve just found something else that interests me.”

Kate blinks, a sudden rushing in her ears. Surely she’s heard him wrong.

The elevator doors begin sliding shut again, and Alex shoots out his arm to stop them so they can exit.

“Listen,” Alex says, his voice pitched low in deference to their surroundings. “I don’t mean to-” He raises a hand to his head as if to run his hand through his hair, his usual tic, but lets out a frustrated laugh when his hand meets the fabric of his beanie. He yanks the hat off his head, his hair expanding to fill the space. “I don’t mean to make it weird, I just, I...like you. A lot. And I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.”

Kate knows she used to be able to speak, but can’t seem to find any words at the moment. 

Misinterpreting her silence, Alex rushes, “but you’re not into it, and that’s cool. We’re cool. I’m just gonna-” he jerks his thumb toward the stacks. “See you on Thursday.”

He’s gone before she can find her voice to call his name or tell him to wait or say something, _anything_.

“ _What_ ,” she says to the air.

After setting her things down at the nearest table, Kate sits down and stands up twice, silently arguing with herself about propriety, and how she doesn’t have time to date, and how the faculty rumor mill doesn’t need any more fuel.

But what it boils down to is this - she’s a little bit afraid of what could happen, and being a coward really pisses her off. It’s that, more than anything, that sends her stalking off in the direction of the stacks, holding her breath until she sees a glimpse of his hair in one of the back aisles.

“Hey.”

Alex turns, a book in his hand and a cautious expression on his face.

Kate steps toward him, taking the book from him and setting it back on the shelf. She doesn’t pay attention to the reference number and feels guilty about it, silently asking the library staff for forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath, she says, “You never actually asked me out, you know.”

Alex’s eyes light up, just a bit. “I guess I didn’t.”

“And you should probably know, what happened the other day...I don’t lose my cool like that for anyone.”

He quirks an eyebrow, but he’s smiling. “I’m just that annoying, huh?”

She laughs. “Yes. And…” _Screw it_ , she thinks, before gripping the fabric of his shirt, rocking up on her toes and planting her mouth on his, just a quick kiss that sends a shock down her spine nonetheless. She pulls back and he sways forward, just a little, his eyes hazy and unfocused.

“Kate,” he says. Just her name, but it rocks her; she didn’t know her name could sound like that, one syllable packed with what feels like all the meaning in the universe. It’s a question, and he takes her silent nod as an answer, because all of a sudden he tilts his head down and is very soundly kissing her back. 

_So this is the fully focused Alex Murry experience_ , Kate thinks as his hand slips into her back jean pocket and the other at the nape of her neck, nudging her closer. She gives in to her impulse and runs her hand through his hair, and they both set about being as unprofessional as possible in the back stacks of the university library on a Monday morning.

\--

“Question,” Alex says some time later. They’d left the library after an undergraduate had caught them in the stacks, Alex’s shirt half off and Kate’s leg hooked around his waist. Sheepishly, Alex had tugged his shirt into place, held out his hand to her, and offered to buy her lunch.

“Shoot,” Kate says, reaching for a slice of pizza.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you strike me as someone who doesn’t get involved with her students.”

Kate flushes, remembering where her hands had been not an hour before. “First time for everything,” she mumbles, shoving pizza into her mouth to avoid saying anything embarrassing.

Alex smiles, his eyes crinkling. “I’m very happy to be an anomaly.”

Kate takes a sip of her Coke and tries not to let her face split into the goofy grin that she can feel forming, but _damn it_ , he’s cute.

“Okay, so, part two.”

“There’s a part two?”

“I feel like, if we want this to happen - and I do,” he says fervently. “I think...I have to fire you.”

“I _beg_ your pardon,” Kate says. “I have never been fired in my life.”

“First time for everything?” He echoes her words back to her, making them both laugh. Their knees bump under the table as their eyes lock.

“Wait,” Kate says suddenly. “You can’t fire me yet.”

“What?”

“Not until midterms. That was the deal I made with Dr. Gardner.”

“Kate,” Alex cajoles. “It’s just one more week. And anyway, we both know I can pass that exam on my own.”

“That’s not the point,” she replies primly. “Please don’t make me explain to my adviser that I got fired because I started dating the problem student she foisted on me.”

“ _Problem student?_ ” He looks genuinely offended. It’s cute.

“Besides,” Kate says, steamrolling over his objections, “no student of mine is going to just _pass_ an exam. You ace your midterm, then we’ll talk.”

Alex narrows his eyes. “That feels like a challenge.”

Kate shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

\--

Alex, of course, gets an A on his exam, after two study sessions at his place and one at her apartment. The library is out, for obvious reasons.

Dr. Gardner thanks Kate for her efforts after their weekly meeting. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” she adds as they exit the building. Kate looks up to see Alex leaning against one of the pillars of the awning.

“No trouble,” she says faintly. They say their goodbyes, Dr. Gardner splitting off down the pathway, nodding at Alex as she passes.

Alex glances back to make sure Dr. Gardner is out of earshot. “So,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

Kate rolls her eyes, kissing him before he has a chance to say anything else.

They end up back at her apartment, Alex sitting on her dumpy secondhand couch with Kate perched on his lap, her knees bracketing his hips and her forearms resting on his shoulders.

“Comfy?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

Kate pretends to think about it. “Not bad, thanks.”

They’re both laughing as he reaches for the hem of her sweater.

They kiss for what feels like hours, at turns lazy and heated. Kate feels like she’s drowning in it, swept under by his mouth on her neck, his hands warm and sure as they roam over her back, down her sides, up over her breasts.

Alex flips them over so their positions are reversed, her leaning back against the cushions and him kneeling in front of her. “Can I-” he asks, and she nods.

They never make it to the bed.

\--

Dating another scientist presents challenges, sure, but Kate’s too happy to care. Sometimes she and Alex will go three days without seeing each other, both wrapped up in their research. She’d dated someone in the first year of her degree who’d made her feel guilty every time she had to reschedule a date to spend more time in the lab. Alex just brings her a burrito and asks about how her cultures are doing.

They’re lying in his bed, listening to the rain, the first time he tells her about his theory of space/time travel. She thinks he’s joking and laughs accordingly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He lives in the attic of a group house with four other students, but his bed is surprisingly comfortable, much better than hers, so she cheerfully waves at his roommates and trudges up to his garret a few times a week.

“I’m serious,” he insists, and she can see in his eyes that he is. 

As she listens to him talk about touching the stars, she says offhandedly, “sure, but don’t forget the biological factors.”

“Like what?”

Kate props herself up on her arm, looking down at him. “Well, the type of travel you’re talking about, it would have major implications at the molecular level.”

Alex shifts to prop a pillow behind his head, focusing in on her. “Okay. Tell me more.”

And so she does.

_end_


End file.
